“… and I just couldn’t believe that he actually fell for it! I mean, everyone knows that trick, even you would have seen right through it… right? Myungsoo? Helloooooo?” Chanyeol waved a hand in front of his face, and the action brought him blinking back to the present. The two boys were in a small cafe near their campus and supposed to be studying, though Myungsoo had been sitting there lost in his thoughts for longer than he'd like to admit.

“What?” he asked, a little irritable as he glanced at the clock above the clerk’s counter and realized that Chanyeol had been talking for nearly two hours. The tall boy gave him a halfhearted glare in response. 

“You weren’t even listening!” he whined, and Myungsoo let out a long suffering sigh.

“Maybe if I hadn’t heard this story a million times already, then I wouldn’t tune you out!” he snapped back, temper short today for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. He immediately felt bad for saying that, even though it was true. Chanyeol didn't deserve his anger. A kicked puppy look crossed Chanyeol’s face and his lips dropped into a pout, and Myungsoo shook his head slightly in chagrin. “Come on, you know it’s true,” he said, with a teasing tone, trying to lighten up the tension he'd caused, and after a moment Chanyeol shrugged.

“Well maybe you ought to come with me to parties so that I don’t have to explain them, then.” He returned to his workbook in front of him without looking at Myungsoo for his reaction.

The problem was, Myungsoo didn’t care what happened at parties. He never had and he never would, which was honestly why he never bothered going. Too many people in one place always made him nervous, and add the fact that most of them were drunk and it was a definite no for him. Chanyeol was a social butterfly, though, thriving off of the attention others gave him. Myungsoo could tell that Chanyeol wasn't actually studying, was just sitting there staring at his book, obviously put out. After a moment of weighing his guilt with his annoyance, Myungsoo caught the other's eye and motioned for his one and only friend to continue his story.

Which he did happily, nattering on about something some popular guy had done with cinnamon that had made the ambulance have to come. Myungsoo was certain he didn't actually want to hear this story, but if it made Chanyeol happy then it was worth listening to.

The bell dinged over the door and Myungsoo glanced up in irritation, the sound an unwelcome distraction from his writing. The man in the doorway was dressed from hat to shoes in a black that seemed to glimmer like it was wet, though a glance out the window showed that there was no rain. He turned back to the man and it took a moment to find him again, though he had not moved at all. Something about him seemed to almost blend with the shadows, making him hard to focus on. Myungsoo dropped his pencil and rubbed his eyes before looking again, and the look on his face must have signaled something to his friend, because Chanyeol turned to look in the direction of the door.

“Huh, that’s odd, I thought I heard someone come in!” he said, and Myungsoo glanced at him in shock before looking again to the odd man in the doorway. His black eyes were fixed on the college boy now, and a chill ran down his spine at the emotionless depths there. He didn’t know why Chanyeol couldn’t see the man, and he didn’t know why the man seemed fuzzy around the edges, but he did know that he didn’t want anything to do with any of this. Gathering his things, he quickly stood and pulled a few dollars out of his jeans pocket to toss them on the table.

“Are you leaving? I’m not done with my sto…” Chanyeol looked up at Myungsoo’s face and seemed to note the lack of color there, worry drawing his brows together. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked in concern, moving to stand, but the other boy placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… feeling a little off. I’ll see you later, okay?” And before Chanyeol could answer, Myungsoo moved to the door, stepping carefully around the strange figure in black that no one else seemed to have noticed. The man still didn't move an inch, but kept his eyes on Myungsoo. He felt the ice on his spine from the man’s gaze, but he ignored it as best he could and hurried out into the night streets.

Sungjong made his way through the streets of Seoul, the darkness hiding his movements easily as he invoked just a bit of power to make himself less noticeable to the eye. He knew that doing that risked that evil creatures could sense him, but he was willing to take the risk rather than be questioned by humans. 

He’d spent the last several weeks in Seoul, and learned quickly that the city had changed from when he had last been there. Come to think of it, he realized that that had been over two lifetimes ago, and the sudden wash of fear ran through him as he wondered if maybe Hoya was right. Could this feeling, this absolute surety that he felt about L being alive, could it be wishful thinking? Six hundred years had passed